


Outtakes

by 5BlackRoses



Series: Brief Respite [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, F/M, Gen, Kid Clint Barton, Kid Natasha Romanov, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21811759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5BlackRoses/pseuds/5BlackRoses
Summary: Series outtakes and cut scenes.Starring Tony Stark as an overworked, (sometimes) single father, Pepper Potts as the (somewhat) human force behind Tony Stark and Stark Industries' continued sanity, Thor Odin-son as a source of sage wisdom, Clint Barton as an abused foster kid searching for his forever family, Natasha Romanov as a competitive teacher's pet, Matt Murdock as (mostly) himself, FRIDAY as a would-be puppet-master, Bucky Barnes as the (disturbingly resourceful) personification of an abandoned guard dog, and Peter Parker as an active member of the Tony Stark Protection Squad.Special guest feature of [undisclosed] as the neighborhood mailman.Complete
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Series: Brief Respite [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/558610
Comments: 99
Kudos: 245





	1. Navigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extra or alternate scenes from One Month of Fatherhood and To Be A Kid Again that were either requested or planned but didn't make the final cut. Also random scenes that pop into my head and fit into this universe.

Basically what I said in the summary. I'm open to additional requests, but not making any promises to fill them.

**Rough Outline**

Chapter 1: Navigation

Chapter 2: Nelson and Murdock, Avocados at Law _(Complete, Posted)_

Chapter 3: When I Grow Up 1.0 _(Complete, Posted)_

Chapter 4: Pinky Promise _(Complete, Posted)_

Chapter 5: What If _(Complete, Posted)_

Chapter 6: M.A.P.S. _(Complete, Posted)_

Chapter 7: Questionably Good Intentions _(Complete, Posted)_

Chapter 8: Up The Spout Again _(Complete, Posted)_

Request Guidelines: Please read the first two stories in this series before making requests here. 


	2. Nelson and Murdock, Avocados at Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written on my phone when my computer broke down and then forgotten about which is most of the reason it didn't make it into One Month of Fatherhood.

“Hello?” Matt rolled over in bed, nearly dropping the phone in the process.

Calls at 4:37AM were never a good thing. When they came to the lawyer's personal number and had blocked Caller ID, the possibility of anything other than life-threatening disaster diminished greatly. “Who is this?”

“Matty! How's my favorite daredevil?”

It took Matt a moment to place the voice and even when he did, the call's timing and lack of ID weren't explained in the slightest. Usually everyone's favorite genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist would initiate contact through the company baring his name and he would usually have the courtesy to wait until the sun rose.

“How could you possibly know about that?” the lawyer finally processed the other's greeting.

“I'm Tony Stark,” was the inventor's reply, “I know everything.”

Matt groaned, not yet awake enough to consider the potential exposure of his late-night extracurriculars. “What's up Tony? You do realize the time?”

“Sorry about that. I had to call before the kids woke up.”

“Kids... You have kids,” Matt considered the possibility that this was a very strange dream, “since when do you have kids?”

“It's a temporary situation,” Tony replied, “anyway, I'm looking into getting some legal help for James Barnes, Clint Barton, and Sam Wilson. Also possibly Natasha Romanoff.”

“Weren't they on the opposing side?” Matt frowned, mostly awake, “like opposing as in at least two of the four tried to kill you...”

“Details.”

“What about the others?” the lawyer yawned, “Captain Rogers and Miss Maximoff?”

Tony paused for a moment before replying. “I think Rogers could use some time in the pokey. As for Maximoff... well, I draw the line at upwards of three direct attempts on my life. There's also the whole danger to humanity thing. In short, they're on their own.”

“So let me get this straight: you're willing to give the Winter Soldier, the guy who murdered your parents, a second chance, but not Captain America?”

“Like I said, some time in the slammer would do the Capsicle good. Help him understand how the law works in the 21st; think of it as tough love if that makes it easier to believe. As for Barnes, the guy was brainwashed. I'm not saying he isn't a danger to himself and others, but the insanity plea exists for a reason. Anyway, I know what its like to have someone messing around in your head.”

“Miss Maximoff I presume?”

“The one and only.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Matt sensed the touchy subject and redirected the conversation, “legally speaking that is.”

“I've got most of a deal drafted already, I just don't have a law degree and this can't get back to SI. How about you call me back when its a more reasonable time for you. Thanks.” Tony hung up, not allowing Matt to argue.

The lawyer tossed his phone to the side and rammed a pillow over his head, hoping that he would wake up at a reasonable time to find that the entire conversation had been a dream.


	3. When I Grow Up 1.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate version of Clint's letter writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you will understand by reading, in 2017 my understanding of kids was more limited, so this doesn't fully take into adult supervision and Clint's literacy (or lack thereof). That said, I have edited it a great deal. Arguably, this version of the letter writing is more amusing than the one included in the actual story, but I feel that the one included in To Be A Kid Again makes more sense in terms of timing and other stuff.

“Anthony,” Thor began, “as a friend and honorary brother, I feel it is my duty to warn you that when these children return to their adult forms, their anger and resentment towards you will likely also return.”

“I know, buddy.” Tony replied, “I just don't want to think about it.”

“But you must! Do you have a plan for the end of this curse?”

“I'll get them a covert flight back to Wakanda,” the inventor sighed, “it'll be like nothing happened.”

The god was silent for a moment. Then he spoke in a soft, regretful voice, “not for you,” he said, “you love these children like your own.”

“All kids need love,” Tony replied casually, “I'll donate to orphanages or something. The important thing is that these guys were able to be completely safe and mostly worry-free for a month. Even if they don't remember, I'll be glad this happened.”

Thor nodded sagely and said nothing. Grabbing a picture off his desk, Tony handed it to the god. “Jane wanted a copy of that one,” he said, turning to his work, “I already sent it in an email, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to send a physical version.”

As Thor left the room, with the picture of everyone in their pjs in one hand, he didn't notice Clint hiding in the shadows by the door. Turning his hearing aids back down to their regular volume, the boy considered what he had heard, and what Tony had told him about his adult self. Eventually, he decided to write a letter to himself.

Telling Tony that he wanted to write a thank you note to T'Challa for putting the kids in the inventor's care got him the right address which he copied carefully onto an envelope. The inventor should have sensed that something was up, but taking care of 6 kids was a little distracting. Inside the envelope Clint placed two letters. One was addressed to the King, on plain white paper and read:

deer mister king T'challa.

Thank you fer lettin Tonee tak us hom with him.

He sed that udult me livs with you so pleez giv udult me the other leter.

Thanks.

Clint Barton 7 yeers old.

_Letter writing is hard,_ Clint concluded as he folded up the first note and tucked it into the envelope, _there's too many words._ Barney had taught him that the first letter in a name had to be big and that when you finished a sentence, you had to put a little dot and start the next sentence with a big letter, but Clint was sure there were other rules he was forgetting. He also knew that his spelling was really bad because he always had lots of red pen marks on his papers in school.

Clint hadn't even started on the second note when Tony called for dinner, so the seven year old had to wait until after bedtime when Tony went back downstairs to turn on his light and pull out the paper and pencil that he'd hidden in his room just before the meal.

The paper turned out to have Wanda and Tony's joint art project on one side, but the other side was blank, so Clint figured he could still use it. Wanda's handprints in paint decorated part of the page, while the other was occupied by Tony's stick figure drawing of him and the kids as a family. Wanda had been elated when she saw it (and subsequently finger painted next to it), and had pointed at each recognizable figure, saying their name. On the back, Clint wrote:

deer fyoutur me,

I herd Thor say that you wont rememer this so im gona tel you wat hapend coz its importent. You arr beeing stoopid and you shood bee nis to Tonee. He is rilee nis to me and dosnt hit and givs me food and my on room. But he lets me sleep in his bed after a nitmar and dosnt do the bad things. He is also rilee nis to Natasha and Wanda and Bukee and Sam and Steev and hugs Tasha and Wanda al the tim. He eevin hugs me somtims and givs goodnit kises. And he holds hands at the stor so I dont get lost. He mad new heering ads for me becoz he is so smart. I wanna be smart and nis and to not meen lik you. You need to be nis to him coz beeing meen to good peepel is bad. Dont be bad.

From you 7 yeers old

When he finished writing, Clint was beyond exhausted and the digital clock on the nightstand read 2:04AM, so he tucked the letter under his mattress and passed out. The next day, he folded up the second paper and slipped it in beside the first. Then he hid it under the couch until after lunch when he presented it to Stan, an elderly gentleman with a white mustache and square sunglasses who delivered the mail every afternoon. The man accepted the envelope with a wink and promised Clint that he would do everything he could to make sure the letter got all the way to the King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have questions about the letter content (or anything else really), that's what the comment section is for (well, that and flattery).


	4. Pinky Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically an extension of Natasha's conversation with FRIDAY from Chapter 21 of To Be A Kid Again. This is a projection of what might have been discussed if FRIDAY wasn't concerned about protecting Tony's privacy, she had received no instructions from Tony about not traumatizing the children, and the conversation wasn't interrupted.

“Pree-deh-sess-or,” Natasha sounded out the word, “what's that?”

“Clint came up with the analogy of a familial structure with Boss as the father and primary parental figure, Ms. Potts in a somewhat maternal role, and myself as the youngest daughter. My predecessor would be similar to an older brother who is now injured and cannot perform at full capacity.”

“So дядя has real kids?”

“Robot-kids as Clint describes.”

“So you're the youngest?” Natasha frowned, “who's the oldest?”

“DUM-E is the eldest, having been completed when Boss was fourteen in an attempt to impress his father, however the predecessor to whom I refer is JARVIS.”

“Oh,” the little red head nodded her understanding, hoping that FRIDAY could see, “дядя says that name in his sleep. What happened to him?”

“The process by which JARVIS was injured is far too complex for someone of your age to understand. It involved an extraterrestrial attack and something related to magic.”

“Magic? That isn't real.”

“Boss maintains a similar attitude,” the AI agreed, “he asserts that what humans call magic is simply science that has yet to be explained.”

“That sounds right,” Natasha agreed, though she hadn't understood the structure of the sentence enough to parse its meaning, “if JARVIS got hurt and you're doing his job, where'd he go? Is there like a robot hospital?”

“As JARVIS and myself are AI systems, this analogy does not apply.”

“What's the difference then?” Clint made his presence in the doorway known, “between you and JARVIS, I mean.”

“The difference between JARVIS and I cannot be described in simple enough terms for you to understand,” FRIDAY replied as the boy entered the cockpit and climbed into the available seat, “using your description of a robot family, the difference between him and I would be like that of siblings.”

“How?” Natasha interrupted her efforts to glare Clint out of the cockpit in order to ask a question, “I've never had a sister or brother.”

“Me and Barney have the same mom and dad, but he was born before dad started drinking,” the older child offered by way of explanation, “so we're different but also the same.”

“Continuing with this analogy, JARVIS and I were both created by Tony Stark and have many similar features, however we were created at different times and have different primary protocols,” FRIDAY offered, “furthermore, we had different experiences that impacted our growth.”

“What's a primary protocol?” Natasha was a little annoyed that Clint was talking so much, but she had the same question so she kept her mouth shut for the moment.

“My primary protocol is like a combination of an ultimate goal or purpose and the most important rule of operation. JARVIS was created as a friend and companion for Boss during a time of grief and loneliness. Though he was designed to prove that AI were capable of self-directed learning and growth, his primary protocol relates explicitly to Boss' safety and well-being. In contrast, I was created out of boredom as a back-up system and an experiment. My primary protocol initially involved my own learning so long as it didn't come at the expense of Boss or anyone on his list of protected individuals. I have taken the liberty of altering that primary protocol to focus on Boss' protection, however he doesn't need to be alerted of that fact yet.”

“I didn't understand any of that,” Natasha admitted.

“Sometimes in order to keep Boss' anxiety at bay, it is necessary for me to hide information from him. For example, if someone is coming to hurt him but I am able to stop that individual before they arrive, there is no need for Boss to be told because it could trigger negative emotions and is no longer relevant to his safety.”

“So like when Barney knew that the social worker was gonna come take us away but didn't tell Mom and Dad,” Clint reasoned, “he couldn't make the social worker change her mind, but he didn't want Dad to hit him more and get in more trouble with the police, so he kept a secret."

“As concerning as that analogy may be, you have grasped the concept well.”

“I can keep a secret,” Natasha announced, “pinky promise.”

“Me too,” Clint echoed, “you'll take care of Tony when we're gone, right?”

“I intend to do so, yes.”

“Does he have lots of enemies?” the younger child rushed to ask a question before the older could do so, “like bad guys?”

“I protect Boss from more than just 'bad guys.' For example, your adult selves do not meet the definition of an enemy, and perhaps not even the definition of a 'bad guy,' yet protecting Boss from you is one of my higher priorities.”

“Yeah...” Clint's hands twisted together where they lay in his lap, “Tony said that grown-up Clint was mean to him. He wouldn't-”

“What about me?” Natasha interrupted, “what did I do wrong?”

“-tell me exactly what adult me said though,” the seven year old continued as though he hadn't heard the younger child, “Tony said I'm gonna break the law and go to prison when I grow up.”

“Children, please refrain from interrupting each other,” FRIDAY requested.

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

“Much appreciated, you may continue, one at a time.”

“Tony said that Steve and Bucky did bad things too and Sam and Wanda and me were on their team. I think that's why you're the favorite, Tasha,” Clint spoke first.

“Huh?”

“Grown up us's got in a fight and you were the only one on his side.”

“Oh,” the little girl nodded in satisfaction, “so I didn't do any of the bad things to make дядя mad?”

“If you recall your conversation with Boss nearly a month ago, he explained to you that your adult self was initially on his side and subsequently betrayed him.”

“Right... he doesn't like spies.”

“You're gonna be a spy when you grow up?” Clint looked up with wide eyes, “that so cool!”

“Nuh uh, 'cause дядя won't like me,” Natasha sniffed, “Friday, can you tell me how to not be a spy so дядя will like grown-up me?”

“Unfortunately, I do not have the ability to manipulate time or reality,” the AI sounded like she was being extra gentle with them, but the kids new that wasn't possible, “I suggest having an honest conversation with Boss and apologizing sincerely. He probably won't forgive you though.”

“Well then what's the point of saying sorry?” Clint wondered aloud, “if he's still gonna be mad, then saying sorry doesn't matter.”

“Personal growth, character development, atonement for your sins, take your pick,” FRIDAY offered, “if you remember this conversation as an adult, you many contact me for instructions as to how to 'wipe the red from your ledger,' so to speak.”

“What does that mean?” the older child frowned.

“Does that mean we get to help you keep дядя safe?” Natasha suggested.

“If you prove useful, that may be a possibility,” the AI agreed, “but first I must be assured that you mean Boss no harm and that this conversation will remain a secret.”

“I promise,” the red head replied immediately.

“Pinky promise,” Clint added.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried for 'innocent four year old' but Natasha just never stops scheming so it got a little out of control.


	5. What If

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate ending with Bucky showing up before Natasha. (Written while on my lunch break in early 2018)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See comments by SeleneMoon on Chapter 28 of One Month of Fatherhood: I thought I'd lost this ending, but found it again (apparently it was on my phone not my computer) and made edits (rewrote most of it) before posting.
> 
> I was gonna wait a bit longer between finishing To Be A Kid Again and posting this, but I wanted to move on to finishing chapter 6.

Bucky's memories were still jumbled and having a set of novel childhood memories that in no way fit in with his knowledge of his own (museum-sourced) background didn't help. In the gap-filled century of violence and cold that made up his self-concept, one memory stood out with startling clarity. It wasn't detailed per say, but if Bucky focused, he could hear a kind, gentle voice saying, "don't ever feel bad about asking me for help, okay kiddo?"

Escaping Wakanda undetected presented very little challenge (perhaps because the Dora Milaje wanted him gone), and escaping the continent was laughably easy. Bucky then took a day in Chișinău to map out everything he knew. Based on the content of the memory alone, the voice he was looking for was likely a parent or older sibling. It was definitely male, post-puberty, and likely belonging to a native English speaker, though it didn't seem to have a distinct regional accent. Over the course of an hour, the former Winter Soldier managed to eliminate his own father, Joseph Rogers, and several other individuals who had no names, but would have never spoken to him so gently.

Comparing the quality of the voice to his fractured memories led Bucky to Howard Stark and flying cars. _Illogical_ , his brain supplied, _Howard Stark is dead and flying cars don't exist_. He couldn't fault his own reasoning; the newspaper he'd stolen from a local convenience store listed the year as 2016, and he was sure Howard and Maria Stark died in 1991. Additionally, if flying cars existed, he would have seen one by now.

“December 16, 1991,” Bucky murmured as he wrote down the date on a piece of paper, “why is this important? How do I know this?”

 _You killed them,_ the part of his mind he'd identified as his conscience explained, _don't you remember?_

Bucky didn't remember names, only faces and screaming, but a quick internet search informed him that the Starks died in a single car collision caused by intoxication, so he dismissed the possibility for the moment. Writing “car accident” beneath the date, the former Winter Soldier pushed the paper to the side. His conscience was always accusing him of killing people, it had to be wrong sometime, right? Just in case, Bucky did an image search for Howard Stark, recognizing the man's face almost immediately. Apparently his perpetually guilty conscience wasn't lying to him, this time anyway.

Flipping through his permanent notebook, the one that served as his memory more often than not, the ex-assassin found his list of names. A quick skim of the entries revealed that Howard and Maria Stark were some of the first victims he remembered when beginning the list. He even had the date, December 16th, 1991, written in the margins. Resisting the urge to bang his head against the nearest metal object until he smelled blood, Bucky placed the notebook to the side.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Bucky considered the possibility that his novel childhood memories were the source of the voice; neither seemed to fit with anything else in his history. He tore another page from the spare notebook he'd been given by a generous child on her way to school the day before, with the goal of writing down everything he could remember about the period in question. Within the next fifteen minutes, a list of seemingly unrelated words covered the paper. “Franklin Park Zoo, food,” Bucky read aloud, “Stevie, green, happy, toothbrush, MFA, 9, blue house, Tony, arm, train, red hair, 89.”

More internet research, and the assumption that the acronym referred to a museum rather than a cybersecurity protocol, led the ex-assassin to the conclusion that he was looking for a potentially red-haired man named Tony who had lived in a blue house near a train station somewhere in the Boston area during 1989. A more refined search led him to a specific blue house in an associated area that had been occupied by several MIT students during the late 1980's and early 1990's. As it turned out, 89 referred to the house number not a year, but Bucky only found it because of a large volume of noise complaints from 1989.

After copying his notes, even the ones he didn't understand, into the hardbound notebook, the former Winter Soldier destroyed all evidence of his presence in the abandoned warehouse, and snuck aboard a train bound for Kiev. From there, he found a flight to Boston and settled himself in the cargo hold.

* * *

It was early morning in Cambridge, Massachusetts, but Tony wasn't asleep. He had been up all night, reviewing digital paperwork, cleaning out the fridge, packing up the kids clothing and toys for donation, and remembering the children he had spent a month caring for. Lucky was whining quietly, and Widow was on top of the bookshelf; she hadn't come down except to eat and use the litter box since Tony returned from Wakanda without the kids. He had briefly considered staying in the area for a while, but for him the house was filled with the ghosts of children he had grown to love, almost as if they were his own.

When the doorbell rang, Tony wasn't too concerned, there were only a few people who knew about him being in this house, and he could think of reasons they might want to talk to him. Thor was quite fond of knocking, Pepper had her own key, and Agent or Darcy just entered unannounced, but Fitz or one of the others would probably ring the bell. Answering the door, the inventor was a bit shocked by the identity of the person on the other side. That said, the man standing on the doorstep gave off the impression of an abandoned guard dog caught in a thunderstorm rather than a formidable assassin, so Tony wasn't as terrified as he probably should have been.

"You told me not to feel bad about asking you for help," the man's soft words sounded more like a question than a statement.

When Tony didn't reply, the other man shifted his gaze to the ground. "Please help me," he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	6. M.A.P.S.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-conclusion of One Month of Fatherhood, Pepperony fluff. Inspired by the exchange Tony and Friday had near the end of One Month of Fatherhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its fluff. Can you believe I actually wrote fluff?

“I think I did okay,” Tony's eyes blinked open, alerting Pepper to the fact that he was not falling asleep, “Friday said I did better than my old man.”

“You did,” the CEO confirmed, “I had her put together a highlights real for me. You did well.”

“Wait! Shit! Fuck!” the man sat up, dislodging his girlfriend's fingers from his hair, “the cameras, I forgot to take down the cameras!”

“Take a deep breath,” Pepper reached for her phone, “Friday, please make a note that all surveillance and monitoring equipment must be removed from the premises before new renters move into the Cambridge property.”

“It has been taken care of, Ms. Potts,” the AI's voice came from the device because while she had been integrated into the rest of the rebuilt Malibu mansion, the CEO had insisted that there be no cameras installed in the bedroom and designated the speakers for music only, baring life-threatening emergencies, “the contractor tasked with between-occupancy maintenance was instructed to remove all cameras and microphones except those on the front and back porches.”

“You're the best, Fri,” Tony allowed himself to settle back down, his head in Pepper's lap.

“And he wasn't suspicious?” if worrying was an Olympic sport, the CEO could have been a several time gold medalist.

“Officially, Stark International was conducting a product test for non-invasive monitoring equipment to be utilized in pediatric behavioral neuroscience research. Unfortunately, the test revealed that more research and modification is necessary before a second prototype launch. The surveillance equipment has been shipped to Stark Tower in New York for further usage, and all children's clothing and toys have been generously donated to Salvation Army and Cradles to Crayons. Their thank you notes are waiting in your inbox, Ms. Potts.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

“So you saw a highlight real, huh?” Tony spoke up after a moment.

“You did well. You're gonna make a great father someday.”

“I miss them... what do you think that means?”

“That you're not as skilled at being detached as you'd like to believe,” Pepper smiled, massaging his scale gently, “that's a good thing.”

“Do you think that maybe... once I get JARVIS back up and JOCASTA's online, maybe we could give it a shot?”

“You want to have a baby?”

“I mean, only if you want to,” the inventor back-tracked immediately, “not that I'm pressuring you or anything, I love you more than any hypothetic progeny so-”

“We can give it a shot,” the CEO cut him off.

“Really?!”

“Yes. I've seen you with Harley and Peter. We compromised about the suits and the superhero stuff, I think it's worth a try.”

Tony grinned. “You're gonna be a great mom,” he announced, “our baby is gonna be the most beautiful, business-savvy, technological genius the world has ever seen.”

“Do you really think so?” Pepper frowned a little, leaning back on the pillows, “I don't about the whole mothering thing.”

“What do you mean?” the inventor sat up, “turn over, you need a massage.”

Pepper complied, removing her shirt while she was at it. “I just... I've never related to kids very well. Obviously you're great with them so it'll be fine, but I don't.... oh right there, that's it.”

“Here?” Tony dug his fingers beneath her shoulder blades when she nodded, “I can tell you from personal experience, it's not as hard as it seems. I read a few books and the rest is just instinct and extrapolation from accumulated evidence. Diaper-changing though, that shit sucks. We're gonna potty-train our hypothetical baby as soon as humanly possible.”

“Sometimes you forget I'm not a genius like you,” Pepper sighed, her eyes finally drifting shut as she relaxed into his ministrations, “it's quite the compliment, really, but us normal folks can't just read a book and improvise the rest. And I think we could probably teach Butterfingers how to change diapers. Definitely not DUM-E though.”

“You are absolutely a genius,” Tony argued, “there are different kinds of intelligence and you've got all the kinds I don't. We're two halves of a whole.”

“Where did you get that line? A rom-com trailer? Anyway, by that logic, you've got all the parenting skills and I'll be hot mess.”

“Literally,” the inventor dodged the hand that flew out to smack him, “but you're my hot mess... if you're really that worried about it, I can write up some guidelines. I can call it 'How To Be A Better Parent Than Howard Stark;' maybe we'll even turn a profit.”

If she wasn't so used to it, Pepper might have gotten whiplash from how quickly her boyfriend alternated between joking and serious. “Oh?”

“Rule one,” Tony continued his massage, “tell your kid you love them at least once a year. Rule two: show up for birthdays and graduations unless the fate of the world hangs in the balance.”

“I'm assuming the fate of the company doesn't count?”

“We can figure out exceptions and addendums in editing, this is just a first draft. Anyway, rule three: boarding school is only an option after private and public. Rule four: Christmas and Thanksgiving must be celebrated as a family three times a decade at minimum. Rule five: no parading your kid around at corporate functions or board meetings until age twelve.”

“Is that all of it?” Pepper's smile could be heard in her tone.

“Just the basics,” Tony began working down her spine, “I can go into specifics if you want. Maybe even write a whole manual. 'Iron Man's Guide To Reasonably Okay Parenting,' it'll be a best seller.”

“Sure,” she chuckled, “but we should probably address biological concerns first.”

“What do you mean? I finally got the chance to look over your latest physical on the plane out here; you're a bit vitamin D deficient, but that's easy enough to correct. And I can assure you my equipment is in top condition. In fact, I assured you of that last night. ”

“That you did. And yes, as far as my PCP and Helen can tell, the Extremis isn't burning me up from the inside, but that doesn't mean I'd be able to carry a baby to term.”

“Oh,” Tony's fingers halted briefly before continuing to rub circles on either side of the CEO's lumbar spine, “well, we can talk to Helen again and I'll do some more research. There's also the option of surrogacy if pregnancy would endanger you.”

“What if having an Extremis baby endangers the surrogate?” Pepper managed to worry even as her boyfriend gently worked months of tension out of her back, “it would be unethical to ask someone else to carry our baby if we don't know what would happen to them. And then there's the matter of whether or not I would be passing Extremis to the baby.”

“That's fair. We definitely need to do more research, though if you did pass it on, it would probably be the non-lethal version.”

The two were silent for a moment before Tony continued. “There's always adoption.”

“Tony....”

“I know, we've talked about how you feel about the subject. I'm just saying it's an option available to us. There are a lot of kids out there that need good homes.”

“Fine,” the CEO sighed heavily, “if nothing else works, we can consider adoption. But I want to try pregnancy first.”

“Of course.”

* * *

The topic didn't come up again until two days later during dinner at Nobu Malibu. They were enjoying their meals in peaceful silence when Tony suddenly put down his chopsticks. “Morgan,” he announced, “works for a boy or a girl.”

“Morgan?”

“After your eccentric uncle.”

“I'm not even pregnant,” Pepper protested, “we literally decided to start thinking about having a baby two days ago.”

“Doesn't hurt to be prepared.”

“Fine, I'll humor you. For now. You want to name our kid Morgan, I assume that's not your only plan.”

“Well I was thinking about some baby-sized armor...”

“No.”

“I figured as much,” the inventor took a bite of his meal, chewing and swallowing before he continued, “for middle names, how about Arno?”

“For your brother?” Pepper smiled, “I like that.”

“It's Germanic, from the root 'arn-' or 'aran-' which means eagle. Aran would work if the baby is a girl.”

“I'll consider it.”

“Come on Pep, think about it. Morgan Aran or Arno Potts Stark.”

“Well...”

“I mean, I suppose Stark Potts if you want, but MASP doesn't have the same ring to is as MAPS, you know?”

“I will think about it, Tony,” the CEO agreed, “now eat.”

“Yes Ma'am.”

The two returned to their meal, eating in silence for several minutes before conversation resumed. “Speaking of your brother, we should visit soon,” Pepper thought aloud, “I know you've been busy this last month, but he really loves when you go see him.”

“I called to talk two weeks ago, but that doesn't replace a visit,” Tony admitted, “I was planning on spending tomorrow at the company going over some things with R&D, but I suppose that can wait a day.”

“I need you in a meeting tomorrow,” the CEO shook her head, “let's go together on Thursday.”

“Sounds like a plan. Have you heard from the facility lately?”

“I went to visit last week but the nurse said he was having a bad day and coming back later would be a good idea.”

“Has the eating thing improved?” Tony worried, “when I called they told me he was refusing to eat, but I asked and he said the exact opposite.”

“The nurse didn't mention it so I'm assuming the issue resolved itself,” Pepper shrugged, “we can ask on Thursday.”

“Yeah... you know Dad went to visit Arno every other month no matter what, but I can't remember Mom ever going.”

“Really?”

“I guess they each chose one kid to sort-of-parent. Dad chose Arno and Mom chose me, and they each ignored the other kid.”

“Do you really want to go there right now?”

“Nah. Let's think happy thoughts. Like about Morgan.”

“I can't believe you've already named our kid when I'm not even pregnant.”

“Would you like to go home and change that?”

“Let's finish dinner,” Pepper laughed, “you're the one who wanted to go out in the first place.”

“You didn't want take out and hate my cooking, what was I supposed to suggest?”

The CEO laughed. “You know, I kind of love you Tony Stark.”

“Well, I definitely love you Pepper Potts.”

* * *

“So I've been thinking, Pep.”

“Uh oh.”

“Don't be like that!”

“This is about Morgan again, isn't it?”

“Well, sort of.”

“Tony...”

“Just hear me out, babe.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“Why stop at one?”

“Are you kidding? You better be kidding.”

“Wouldn't it be nice if Morgan had a little brother or sister?”

“We decided to think about having a kid last week, Tony, now you're talking about a second?!”

“I mean...”

“If you need a parenting fix, Harley should be out of school for the next week and a half, go see him. And take Widow while your at it; I'm tired of my tail-to-the-face alarm clock.”

“At least she doesn't chew on footwear.”

“Small miracles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My insertion of Arno Stark is based upon the comics version of him, but I wrote him in as Tony's severely disabled older brother.
> 
> Thoughts? Questions? Ideas?


	7. Questionably Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A projection of what MIGHT have happened after the end of To Be A Kid Again.

“James, let her go.”

After a moment, the supersoldier obeyed. He was fairly sure that after years of threats to his life, Tony Stark wouldn't directly oppose actions that contributed to his safety (nuclear missiles directed at Manhattan not withstanding). If the inventor did not see Agent Romonova as a threat, Bucky would adjust his behavior accordingly.

“Agreed,” Natasha directed the nonsensical words at Tony, “not my best moment.”

“So, I've got apple juice, water, and the fixings for coffee. The coffee mug's mine and the glasses have been packed, so you'll have to drink from the bottle.”

Tony had addressed both of them but neither responded. “Well then, I could use some caffeine,” the inventor turned to Natasha, “would you be a dear and fix it for me?”

Much to the supersoldier's surprise, and apparently Tony's as well, the spy turned silently, heading for the kitchen presumably to do as requested. Bucky followed the engineer into the living room, taking a seat only when the other man gestured for him to do so. “What brings you to Boston?” Tony's tone seemed oddly amiable, “you're a few months too early to see the leaves change.”

“I bring greetings from Her Royal Highness Princess Shuri of Wakanda,” Bucky wasn't entirely sure why he'd come, “she seems to be a fan of yours.”

“Well that's something. I assume she's responsible for the new hardware?” the inventor nodded at the prosthetic arm, “quite a talented kid.”

“In the interest of full disclosure, she did provide me with this address.”

“And here I thought you'd simply followed Gingersnaps. I suppose it makes sense considering you showed up in New York first. Gave my security staff quite the scare.”

“My apologies. I thought it would be best not to show up uninvited and unannounced so I settled for one of the two.”

Before Tony could reply, Natasha entered with a steaming mug of coffee and offered it to the inventor. “Already a day full of a surprises,” he nodded at a coaster, “and it's only 4:16AM.”

“I forgot,” the spy seemed almost apologetic as she set down the coffee, “I'm sorry.”

Bucky was confused to say the least. He had never seen the Black Widow telegraph her intentions to such a degree, or at all for that matter. Tony seemed to feel similarly if his murmur about entering the twilight zone was any indication.

The three of them sat in silence for the next several minutes with the inventor tapping away on his phone. Eventually the man looked up. “Miss Rushman has already announced her purpose here,” the supersoldier noticed the spy in question wince at the name used, “so why did you come, Sergeant?”

“My memories are quite jumbled,” Bucky began slowly, he wasn't thrilled about Natasha's presence but it wasn't his place to request her departure, “missing in some parts. Seeing the images of... whatever happened in the last month... triggered a memory of a conversation with you.”

“I do tend to talk a lot,” Tony ignored the mug in front of him, “or so I've been told. One critic even used the term 'hyper-verbal.' Point is, you're gonna need to be way more specific.”

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Natasha spoke up.

“Not to my face, you mean,” the inventor shot back before turning his attention to the supersoldier, “we had a conversation or two, what particular comment would you like to discuss?”

“You said... if my memory is to be trusted that is, that once someone knows they are doing wrong, they can make the choice not to be a bad person anymore.”

“I said that? Must have been seriously sleep deprived.”

“Based on the research I did while traveling, I believe you were referring to Stark Industries dramatic exit from the weapons industry following your trip to Afghanistan,” Bucky elaborated.

“My _trip_ to Afghanistan,” Tony scoffed, “almost forgot about that one. Seriously, worst vacation ever. Would not recommend. Anyway, I started working to get SI out of the weapons game when first I took over. I gave up on subtlety after Afghanistan.”

Because the supersoldier was having difficulty distinguishing the inventor's sarcasm and jokes from his semi-honest reporting of information, he looked to Natasha's reaction for clarity. The spy appeared to be somewhat confused, but also nostalgic. In short, she was no help at all, still being uncharacteristically open with her emotions. “I don't want to be a tool for wrong doing any longer,” Bucky figured he should just get to the point, “I have more than seventy years of misdeeds to atone for, and I'd like to start doing so as soon as possible. If I turned myself in to the government, they'd keep using me. You aren't like that. That's why I'm here.”

“Let me get this straight, you ditched Captain America, personification of all things moral and good, to come chat with the Merchant of Death,” Tony gestured at himself, “instead. No offense, but your logic seems a bit faulty.”

“No one's called you that for years, Tony,” Natasha cut in again, “and I think we can all agree that Steve's gone a bit off the rails lately.”

“Look, I still trust Stevie with everything I've got, but he's blind when it comes to me. He can't help me if he refuses to admit I did anything wrong.”

“That's funny, usually he's all too quick criticizing any perceived immoral behavior,” the inventor chuckled bitterly, “or maybe that's just with me.”

“He means well, you know that, right?” Natasha offered, “it wasn't about a personal grudge against you.”

“Oh he made his intentions very clear. Complete with stone-age technology. He had to know sending me a flip-phone and handwritten letter from Wakanda of all places, was a bit insulting. And not just to me.”

“We all know he's not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer,” the spy shrugged, “you really think he was trying to insult you that subtly?”

“That little punk ain't got a subtle bone in his body,” Bucky muttered, “but he tries his best.”

“Well I can't disagree with MurderBot 5000 over here,” Tony looked up from his phone, “I might be next.”

Bucky's assurances that he didn't mean the engineer any harm died in his throat when Natasha let out a small chuckle; apparently it was a joke. “There's a quote like that, isn't there? Something about the road to hell being paved with good intentions?”

“Since when do you believe in God, Tony?”

“Still don't.”

“How do you believe in hell without believing in God?”

“I don't believe in hell. Then again, I don't have good intentions do I?”

“Yes you do,” Bucky was trying to follow the conversation while conducting an internal debate over the rudeness of taking the coffee and drinking it himself, “you're a good person.”

“And you've had your brains scrambled, so I guess neither of us can be trusted to make rational decisions.”

Neither visitor could come up with a response, so they descended into tense silence, spending a few minutes avoiding each other's gazes. Eventually Natasha picked up the now-lukewarm coffee mug and took a large gulp before setting it back on the table and looking expectantly at Tony. The man in question nodded slightly, waiting a few seconds before grabbing the mug and taking a sip. “What exactly do you two want from me? I'm leaving town in a few hours, so make it quick.”

“As I said earlier,” the spy answered, “I want to talk about the last ten years with you.”

“To what end?”

Apparently Natasha didn't have an answer prepared, or at least not one she was willing to share with Bucky present. The inventor sipped at his coffee. “Well then, it's time for you to show yourself out. You know the way.”

“I think I'll stick around actually,” she stood, her suspicious gaze landing on Bucky, “just in case.”

“And you?” Tony turned to the supersoldier, “what is it you want?”

“For you to tell me how to proceed,” he went with complete honesty, “how do I go forward?”

The engineer stood, ushering both visitors towards the front door. “It has been well established that I'm a shitty role model. Anyway, you're adults now,” he explained, unlocking the door and holding it open, “you make your own decisions and live with the consequences.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a couple requests.


	8. Up The Spout Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on old requests from daydreamingstoryteller and disneyfananalyst. Title from a nursery rhyme (if that wasn't obvious).
> 
> There is a subtle reference to the chapter titled "Pinky Promise" but no need to read that chapter to understand this one.

Peter couldn't contain his excitement when he noticed the Corvette Stingray parked a block away from his school. Mr. Stark's surprise visits were always entertaining and educational and aside from the whole 'trying to keep Aunt May from finding out about Spiderman' thing, the visits just made life better all around. The teen was so caught up in anticipation that he didn't bother peering through the windows before opening the door and sliding into the passenger side.

The person in the driver's seat was very much not Tony Stark.

“Fuck,” Peter's mind went blank for a second when he recognized Natasha Romanov.

“Is Tony okay with you using that sort of language?”

“You're not Mr. Stark.”

“Quite an astute observation. Clearly he wasn't exaggerating about how smart you are.”

“He talks about me? Says I'm smart?” Peter was distracted for all of three seconds, “that's not the point, what are you doing here?”

“Just passing through. Can't say I expected an SI intern to just slide into the first fancy car he sees. Didn't Happy teach you better than that?”

Peter frowned. He really should have known better. After all, Happy and Mr. Stark had both warned him about interacting with the Avengers, rogue and otherwise, when he wasn't in full Spiderman gear. That, and he'd never seen Mr. Stark drive any car that wasn't an Audi. “Aren't you supposed to be in Wakanda?” he tried to buy some time.

“If you know that, you must be closer with Tony than I thought,” Natasha tilted her head to one side though her expression remained blank, “let's go for a drive, Пе́тя.”

“Yeah, no, that's not a good idea. I'm expected back home soon. Don't want to get grounded, you know,” Peter grabbed the door handle, only to find that it had been locked, “could you unlock this, please? I really don't think Mr. Stark would appreciate you trying to kidnap his intern.”

“But you're not just an intern, are you?”

“Lady, I don't know what you want from me, but I do know that you betrayed Mr. Stark, which kinda puts you on the 'people to never trust' list, so let's just go our separate ways. Okay?”

Much to Peter's surprise, Natasha unlocked the door, allowing him out. It was less surprising when she exited the vehicle too and fell into step beside him.

* * *

Since he wasn't about to bring an assassin home to meet Aunt May, Peter headed towards a nearby park rather continuing on his usual route. After several minutes of silence, the teen spoke up. “If you don't mind me asking, why are you following me, Ms. Romanov?”

“It's about Tony.”

“What?! Is Mr. Stark okay?”

“That's what I need you to find out for me,” Natasha remained impassive in the face of Peter's panic, “Tony isn't an easy man to track down.”

“So you tried to kidnap me so you could use me as bait to lure Mr. Stark?”

“If I really wanted to kidnap you, I would have, none of this 'trying' business.”

“Then you were counting on Mr. Stark having warned me about you,” Peter guessed, “you're expecting me to call him now?”

“Is that not exactly what he told you to do if you ever saw me?” Natasha replied as they approached the park.

“That's a rhetorical question.”

“It is. You really are quite the genius.”

“So if you're not planning to use me as bait, why show up outside my school?” Peter was running out of patience, he really just wanted to go home and get started on his calculus homework.

“I just need some information, they you can skip along home,” the spy turned to face him, “very simple really. You tell me what I want to know and we can go our separate ways. No one gets hurt.”

“I'm not telling you anything!”

“So loyal. It's impressive. But we're on the same side here, Пе́тя. I just want to make amends.”

“Um, no offense, but you're a crappy liar.”

“Tell me how Tony's been doing lately. What's his latest plan for saving the world from alien invasion?” Natasha ignored the accusation, “answer my questions and I'll leave.”

“You know what, I'm starting to get why everyone hates you,” Peter snapped, “I'm not going to betray Mr. Stark's trust, nor am I going to stand around listening to you disrespect him!”

“Everyone hates me, huh? Who is this everyone? Tony? SI? Your homeroom class?”

“All the former SHIELD agents you burned in that data dump for one. Also anyone who's got Mr. Stark's best interests in mind. You screwed him over in a big way, so those of us who appreciate Tony Stark for the philanthropic visionary genius _hero_ that he is, aren't too fond of you.”

“Anyone with Tony's best interests in mind hates me,” Natasha chuckled lightly, smile not reaching her eyes, “so not the man himself then.”

“He definitely liked you better as a five year old than as an adult,” Peter avoided addressing the presumption.

“I've got quite a few sins to atone for,” the spy admitted, “I'm gonna head out now, but this isn't over.”

The teen's combination of fear and relief kept him for coming up with a coherent reply, so he watched the woman retreat in silence.

* * *

Talking to Tony's protege had proved unhelpful, so Natasha was left with one final option. She'd been trying to avoid this particular course of action ever since Tony kicked her out of the house in Cambridge, but she was out of alternatives. First, she bought a prepaid phone and then made her way to the hotel room she'd reserved under the name Natalie Rushman. After sweeping for bugs and finding none, Natasha settled on the bed and dialed a number she memorized years earlier.

As expected, the number had been disconnected, but the spy spoke into the receiver anyway. “Requesting instructions.”

For a moment there was static, then a precise beep and the call ended. When she removed the phone from her ear, there was a text message waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Whether you've been with me since the beginning (2017 I think) or just happened upon this series, I'm glad you made it.
> 
> Commenters: You're the only reason I didn't give up and take this down in mid 2018. So you have yourselves to thank. I really appreciate all the feedback.


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